


Every Kiss Begins with Gay

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Compilation, Drabble, Drabble Collection, EdelBert, F/F, F/M, Kisses, Kissing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rarepair, ashemitri, dedashe, dimivain, kiss meme, kiss prompt meme, rarepairs, sylvashe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 15,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: - Chapter 1: Dimitri/Ashe- Chapter 2: Edelgard/Hubert- Chapter 3: Rodrigue/Gatekeeper- Chapter 4: Sylvain/Ashe- Chapter 5: Lambert/Rodrigue- Chapter 6: Sylvain/Felix- Chapter 7: Dedue/Ashe- Chapter 8: Dimitri/Sylvain- Chapter 9: Sylvain/Ashe- Chapter 10: Glenn/Holst/Christophe- Chapter 11: Linhardt/Metodey- Chapter 12: Sylvain/Ashe/Felix- Chapter 13: Ashe/Felix- Chapter 14: (Octopath) Cyrus/Therion- Chapter 15: Ashe/Dedue- Chapter 16: Ashe/Sylvain- Chapter 17: Felix/Ferdinand- Chapter 18: Ignatz/Lorenz- Chapter 19: Edelgard/Hubert- Chapter 20: Dedue/Ashe- Chapter 21: Rodrigue/F!Byleth- Chapter 22: Dimitri/Sylvain- Chapter 23: Edelgard/Hubert/Ferdinand- Chapter 24: Claude/Lorenz- Chapter 25: Hubert/Ferdinand- Chapter 26: Ashe/Felix- Chapter 27: Claude/Dedue- Chapter 28: Ashe/Sylvain- Chapter 29: Ashe/Felix/Sylvain- Chapter 30: Marianne/Hilda
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Christophe Gaspard/Glenn Fraldarius/Holst Goneril, Cyrus Albright/Therion, Dedue Molinaro/Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd/Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Linhardt von Hevring/Metodey, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ignatz Victor, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius/Gatekeeper, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 94
Kudos: 375





	1. Dimitri/Ashe, kiss as an apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri just wants to apologize. Too bad he's awful at it.

Dimitri grimaced at the box of chocolates in one hand and the bouquet of flowers in the other. Were these the sorts of things people liked? He scrambled to hide them behind his back as the apartment door opened. Ashe was rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Dimitri? What in the world are you doing here this late?” His silver hair was tousled. He wore a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants.

 _Still cute_ , a traitorous voice in the back of Dimitri's mind said. 

“I... came to apologize,” Dimitri said. 

Ashe blinked. “For what?” 

For what? _For what?_ Goddess, where did Dimitri even begin? For the time he'd accidentally torn a page out of Ashe's favorite book while trying to turn it. For the time he'd picked Ashe up and lifted him over a puddle and Ashe had squeaked in surprise and flushed red. For right now, when he'd chosen to apologize in the middle of the night instead of at some sane time of the day like a rational person.

“Do you want to come in?” Ashe said.

“No, I simply meant to apologize,” Dimitri said.

“Well, it's cold. So if you won't come in for yourself, will you come in for me?”

Dimitri considered this. Ashe just turned and walked into his apartment, flicking on lights as he went. Dimitri followed, having little other choice.

“I'll make some tea,” Ashe said. “Why don't you sit?” 

Dimitri settled on the couch, perched on the edge as though afraid the cushions would suck him in deeper if he got any closer. He placed the flowers and chocolates on the coffee table and clasped his hands in his lap, fidgeting while he waited. 

Finally, Ashe returned carrying two steaming mugs that smelled of mint and chocolate. Dimitri breathed in the fumes as Ashe sat beside him.

“Oh, who are those for?” Ashe said, nodding at the flowers and chocolate.

“Ah... um... you,” Dimitri said. “If... if you want them.”

“Me?” Ashe said, brightening. “Oh wow, they're lovely. Thank you!” He set his cup aside and jumped back up, returning this time with a vase filled with water. Ashe carefully arrayed the flowers within it. “Well, thank you, Dimitri, but you really didn't need to do all this.” He paused a beat. “Why _did_ you do all this?” 

“To apologize.”

“Right, that,” Ashe said. “I still don't understand. Why are you apologizing?”

Dimitri scowled down at his hands. This is what Sylvain had advised him to do, wasn't it? _If you want to tell him you like him, you have to apologize first_ , Sylvain said in his memory. But now that the moment had arrived he found he had utterly no idea what he was doing. 

“Is this... a joke?” Ashe said. 

Dimitri flushed, his eyes going wide. Ashe was frowning a little, braced as though expecting a blow. “No,” he said. “No, of course not. Ashe, I wouldn't do that. I just wanted to... I wanted...” 

_There is another way to apologize_ , memory-Sylvain said, and Dimitri could practically feel him wiggling his damn eyebrows. 

“I wanted to kiss you.” Dimitri looked around after the confession, as though searching for the source of his own voice. 

“Oh,” Ashe said. 

“I... Sylvain said... I should...”

“Well, kiss me then,” Ashe said. He sat, his expression unchanging, and merely waited. 

Dimitri cleared his throat. “V-very well.” 

Oh goddess, how did one go about this? Step one: Lean closer. Dimitri saw Ashe's soft lips flutter apart as he did, waiting, expectant. He could practically count the freckles dusting Ashe's cheeks. Step two: ? Step two? _What was step two?_

Ashe relieved him, closing the distance between them, pressing the taste of mint and chocolate against Dimitri's mouth. Dimitri inhaled, feeling the coolness of Ashe's breath seep down his throat, followed by warmth as they melted nearer, their mouths relaxing against each other. Ashe's hand was on his cheek, as soft as his pliant lips, as cool as the mint on his tongue. Ashe's scent and taste and touch washed over Dimitri, a current sweeping him out of his body.

And perhaps that's how he ended up knocking over their mugs without even noticing.

Ashe broke away with a yelp, rushing to right the mugs, retrieving rags to mop up the spill.

Dimitri joined him on the floor, patting at the damp, minty carpet. “Oh goddess, Ashe, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize... I'm so sorry.”

Ashe cupped his hand on Dimitri's face, smiling at him as they crouched on all fours. “Dimitri,” he said. “Stop apologizing.” And he kissed him again, the taste of mint and chocolate suffusing Dimitri's senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	2. Edelgard/Hubert, kiss because it's the end of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Hubert kissing because the world is about to end. Actually one of my favorites out of the series.

The thing that had once been Rhea howled. Its cry shattered the sky, sent frayed clouds skittering and streaking in every direction. The heavens were a tattered rag and Rhea—no, not Rhea, not anymore—The Immaculate One—it beat its silver wings through those shredded heights, those shattered spindles of light and sky and cloud, plucking the world apart string by snapping string.

“No,” Edelgard breathed, falling to her knees. Even as she did, the ground swayed beneath her, rocks chipping off the foundations of Fodlan and tumbling down fathomless crevices. 

Yet even here, even now, Hubert was beside her, also on his knees. “My lady,” he said, his soft voice the only solid thing left in this crumbling world.

“I tried so hard to stop it,” Edelgard said. “I tried so hard to prevent this. If only more had listened, if only more had followed us instead of... _that thing_.”

Hubert set a hand on her shoulder. “You can not change the minds of fools with logic,” he said.

“I do not know how else to do it,” she said.

“Nor I,” he said. “But it doesn't matter anymore.”

She could not argue with that. Already, pits had opened, swallowing distant hills. Fires sprang out of the ground. The sky turned sickly green and black, a swirl of putrid death hanging over them.

Hubert took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “If anyone could have saved this world, it would have been you,” he said.

She didn't know if that was true, but for a moment, she no longer cared. She'd lost, she'd failed, and the entire world was going to burn for it. Perhaps she could have saved them all, but maybes no longer had any weight.

Perhaps that was what pushed her forward, brought her up so she was closer to Hubert, her hands slipping along his cold, pale cheeks. Perhaps the fact that it really, truly did not matter was what brought her lips to his, made her press her warmth against him as though trying to thaw ice.

No, that was unfair, wholly unfair, especially now, when only honesty still counted for anything.

She drew back. “You were always the warmest thing in my life,” she said.

He did not respond, simply pulled her back in. And now she felt it, the heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips. All that cold, stern exterior had always been a lie and she'd always known. Now, for one last moment, she tasted the truest side of him. He _burned_ , burned like the dying sunlight, burned like the heat blasting up through fissures in the ground, burned like the only real, true, solid thing left in this dying world. 

She burned along with him. And when the ground opened up and they finally fell, she hardly knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	3. Gatekeeper/Rodrigue, kiss for luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's right. It's a fucking Gaterigue fic. The power of the rarepair.

Rodrigue secured one gauntlet, checked his swords, shimmied to help his armor settle into place. He scanned the room full of other soldiers preparing for battle. Most were making their final preparations, the younger ones looking around nervously while the grizzled veterans paced through their usual superstitious routines.

A young soldier in a breastplate and cone-shaped helmet shifted his feet, his hand plucking at his tunic. Rodrigue thought he recognized him. 

“Janas,” he tried.

The young man jerked. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Come and help me with my gauntlet, would you?”

Janas actually saluted before scurrying over. Rodrigue could see his hands shaking as he helped with the gauntlet, fumbling when he tried to secure the straps.

“You're the gatekeeper, aren't you?” Rodrigue said, trying to make conversation.

“Yes, sir,” Janas said.

“Is this your first battle?”

“Yes , sir,” he said. “Well, first real battle. I've helped in a couple skirmishes. And there was that one time in the village across the mountains when-- Ah, I'm sorry, sir, I'm rambling.”

“No need to apologize.” Rodrigue tried to smile. He always felt like the narrow planes of his face were ill-suited to the gesture, but Janas seemed to relax. 

“Must be nerves,” Janas said.

Rodrigue clapped a hand to his shoulder. “It's only natural to be nervous. The important part is how you respond to that fear. Do you let it hinder you? Or do you conquer it and press on?”

Janas looked up at him, his mouth falling open a little, his eyes wide and wondering. Rodrigue mentally congratulated himself. He wasn't the most eloquent speaker, but at least he managed to rally his soldiers tolerably well most of the--

Janas rose up abruptly, pressing his lips to Rodrigue's. The Shield of Faerghus was utterly unguarded when he felt Janas' mouth against his, sure and swift and shockingly bold. He could do little more than blink.

Janas backed down, his face going crimson as he rang his hands together. But he did not apologize.

“What was _that_?” Rodrigue said, more to himself than anyone else.

“Conquering my fear, sir,” Janas said.

Rodrigue covered his mouth, but laughter washed past his hand. His shoulders shook, tears springing to his eyes. “Courage, indeed!” he said. “You'll be a fine soldier out there today if you bring such boldness to the battlefield.”

“I will, sir,” Janas said. He saluted and started off, but stopped after only a step. He turned back, smiling over his shoulder. “Good luck, sir,” he said.

Rodrigue kept his hand over his mouth, but this time to cover the unseemly blush rising in his cheeks. He merely nodded and the curious little gatekeeper scurried off, finishing his preparations alongside the other soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ only).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	4. Sylvain/Ashe, kissing where it hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Ashe kiss where it hurts.

The thing about being in charge was, well, it mostly sucked. At least in Sylvain's opinion. And so he'd foolishly, reckless, stupidly, predictably charged into battle at the front lines. “If you're gonna lead, go lead,” he'd said to the many, many voices of protest on every side. 

And lead he had, leaping into the fray, his lance cutting a path through a swath of enemy troops trying to invade Gautier territory in the aftermath of the war. If his foes thought he was going to retire and laze about and command from afar, they were gravely mistaken.

Unfortunately, the stories and paintings about reckless, brave charges tended to only tell the beginning of the tale, the part where the dashing knight flew into the fray heroically. They tended to leave out the bit where an arrow caught him in the side and he careened off his horse and nearly got trampled to death. 

They _definitely_ left out the part where his boyfriend stormed into his bed chambers, slamming the doors open and stomping across the room to where Sylvain lay recovering. 

“You idiot,” Ashe said. A blaze lit his face, turning his freckles into pinpricks against his flushed cheeks. “What were you thinking?” 

Sylvain winced. “I just...” 

Ashe stood at the edge of the bed. Even his weight lightly brushing against the side sent a shiver of pain through Sylvain's ribs. 

“Let me see,” Ashe said. He tugged at the sheets. “Sylvain. Let me see.”

He eased his grip on the sheets and Ashe threw them back. The rush of cool air crawled over Sylvain's bandaged torso like icy fingers. 

“Goddess, you look like a plum,” Ashe said. Even between the wrappings, it was clear how bruised and purpled Sylvain's skin was. 

Ashe leaned down, narrowing his eyes. Sylvain struggled not to squirm. Few people appreciated just how terrifying Ashe could be when he was angry, but Sylvain knew all too well after living with him in Gautier since the end of the war. 

Ashe looked up under his eyelashes, glaring at Sylvain with those piercing green eyes like chiseled jade. 

“What are you...” Sylvain faltered. 

Ashe lowered, slowly and deliberately, and pressed his lips to a bit of exposed skin at Sylvain's side. Sylvain drew in a hiss of breath, his whole body tensing around the pain of the kiss. 

Ashe hunched forward on the bed, his face close to Sylvain's. “And I'll do it every single day until you recover. So that you never, ever do this again.” 

Sylvain gulped.

“Do you understand?” Ashe's voice was soft and tight, like a bowstring pulled taut. 

Sylvain nodded, not daring to speak. 

Ashe straightened. “Good,” he said. Sylvain held his breath until Ashe turned on his heel and left, closing the doors behind him. 

“Rest up,” Ashe said, his soft command muffled by the doors.

Sylvain dared not disobey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ only please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	5. Lambert/Rodrigue, kiss out of pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert and Rodrigue are Responsible Adults (TM) now, but sometimes mens just gotta be frens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pair... it is so powerful. I'm not worthy.

“Rod, arm wrestle me.”

Rodrigue looked up from his book, leveling a glare of utter exasperation at Lambert. 

“No,” he said flatly.

“Why?”

Rodrigue sighed as he set the book aside. “We aren't boys anymore. I can't arm wrestle the king.”

Lambert strode across the room, heedless of the plush fur rug, the tapestries on the walls, the sconces so finely wrought the iron seemed spun from spider's silk. He kneeled before the settee where Rodrigue reclined, shoving a stack of books off an end table and unceremoniously to the floor. Then he slammed his elbow down on the table, holding his hand up and wiggling his fingers. 

“Come on, coward,” he said, grinning. 

Rodrigue's next sigh rang false; Lambert knew he'd won. Despite his protests about propriety, Rodrigue always eventually gave in, especially during this one blessed week of the year when they did still get to pretend they were just boys, boys studying back at the monastery, boys unburdened with the weight of kingdoms, boys whose playful wrestling sometimes turned to desperate grasping and gasping.

Lambert could see Rodrigue biting his cheeks to hold back a smile as he got on the floor, propping his elbow on the table and clutching Lambert's hand. 

“No cheating,” Lambert said. “This will be an honest bout.”

“You're the one already pushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” Rodrigue said. “And that's why--” He started to press and Lambert had to tighten his grip to meet the force with equal pressure. “That's why--” Rodrigue strained. He shoved and Lambert's hand crept downward. “No grabbing the table!”

“I'm not... grabbing... anything,” Lambert gritted out.

“Cheater,” Rodrigue growled and all at once he surged forward, slamming Lambert's hand to the table.

They broke apart panting and laughing. 

“Being king has made you soft,” Rodrigue said. “I could never beat you before.”

“You'd be soft too if you sat in meetings all day,” Lambert said. “Goddess help me, I feel like all I do is listen to people complain.”

“But things _are_ improving, Lambert. I see it everywhere I go. Here, Fraldarius, the whole kingdom is changing for the better. Your reforms are working.”

“Are they?” Lambert scowled, his mirth evaporating like a cold breath dissipating in winter air. 

He heard Rodrigue shuffle closer. “Yes,” Rodrigue said. “They are. What you're doing is worth it. I promise you. And I'll be here beside you the whole way. We can remake Fodlan together.”

“Those are the dreams of boys,” Lambert said. Still, he could not look up at Rodrigue, picking at the black furs in the carpet instead. 

“Boys who've become men, who've become leaders. The future is ours to shape.”

“Sometimes I wonder, Rod. I really do. I'm trying so hard. But it's like swimming against a great current. And I just don't know how long my arms will hold out.”

Rodrigue put a finger under Lambert's chin, tilting his head up, forcing him to look into icy blue eyes. 

No, not icy. Those eyes had never looked at him coldly. They were blue like summer skies, blue like warm, shallow waters, blue like the burning core of a flame. 

“You aren't swimming alone,” Rodrigue said. “You are their sword, their leader, but I am yours, Lambert. Your shield. Ever at your side. And I'm so proud of what you will achieve.”

Lambert grabbed him then, greedy, possessive, needing that flame to burn him whole, needing to feel Rodrigue all around him. They were boys again, kissing on the floor of a dorm room, pretending they were alone, grasping and gasping and having no idea what would come next. Lambert probed past Rodrigue's lips with his tongue, needing to taste all of the man in his hands, needing him somehow closer. 

He grabbed Rodrigue, dragging him into his lap. His hands wandered up to those dark waves of blue-black hair and pulled. Rodrigue whimpered into his mouth. In the next instant, he shoved Lambert down, pressing his back into the furs, straddling his hips. 

“Wrestle me, Rod,” Lambert said, already breathless.

This time, Rodrigue glared not from exasperation but from yearning--bottomless, aching yearning. “Yes,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ only). 
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	6. Sylvain/Felix, kiss to give up control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain spar, but Sylvain has a way of turning his loss into a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you give me a chance to write a fight scene, I will write a fight scene.

Felix curled his fingers, tipping his blade up just a tick. The slight change in angle and direction set his forte against the thinnest part of Sylvain's spear, giving him control of both weapons. He felt the shift, the subtle rebalancing of sword and lance, and lunged forward, throwing weight and pressure against the blades. 

The spear went wide; the sword scraped along it, Felix following a step behind. He shoved when he passed the tip of the spear, rendering Sylvain's weapon useless. With a final beat for good measure, Felix swept past Sylvain's spear, ending up inches from his face. His sword kept the spear at bay while Felix brought up his free hand to grasp Sylvain's tunic. With both hands needed for the spear, Sylvain was helpless, leaving Felix fully in command. 

“Heh, guess I lose again,” Sylvain said. 

“You keep letting me get in range,” Felix said. “I have more control over your spear than you do if you let me in close.”

“Maybe I want you in close,” Sylvain said, a smirk curling one side of his mouth.

Felix rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the obvious bait. “You'll just keep losing.”

“I like losing to you,” Sylvain said, voice roughening like a callous. 

“You shouldn't,” Felix said. 

“Maybe you should try losing sometime, Felix. You might like it.”

Felix scowled. “Ridiculous.” 

“It's gotta be exhausting, always winning, never finding out what it feels like to just... let go.” 

Felix cringed, hating the way Sylvain's voice slithered down his neck and back like dripping water. He shivered and in that breath of weakness Sylvian dropped his spear and grabbed both of Felix's wrists, leaving him defenseless in Sylvain's grasp. 

“Gotcha,” Sylvain said with a grin. “Do you yield?”

Felix would sooner die, and nearly said so, but something about the feeling of being contained, being trapped in Sylvain's hold, helpless, powerless, out of control, sent a thrill up his spine to answer the shivers. 

His lips dropped open before he even knew he was moving. Sylvain's hold loosened as Felix rose up, brushing their mouths together. It was soft as butterfly wings, a single beat of fluttering eyelashes, a sigh against the wind, but it was enough to make Felix's grip relent at last, his sword clattering to the floor. He relented, balled fists withering open, shoulders dropping, scowl fading to a look of open mouthed amazement. 

“I yield,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	7. Dedue/Ashe, kiss as comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedue finds Ashe in the greenhouse fretting over the plants and decides to comfort him.

Dawn stole into the sky as Dedue approached the greenhouse. The scattered light pattered across the roof on soft feet, creating a mosaic of stained glass. Dedue was still looking up as he entered the greenhouse, but muttering brought his gaze down. Ashe was crouched among the flowers, tugging at his silver hair and mumbling to himself. Dedue approached, making sure to crouch down so he would not loom when he called Ashe's attention. Still, Ashe startled. 

“I didn't hear you come in,” Ashe said. “It's so early.”

“Yes,” Dedue said. “It is best to water the plants before the heat of the day. Why do you look troubled?”

Ashe's cheeks flushed with color. It made his freckles look like strawberry seeds scattered across his face. “I think I messed up,” Ashe said. 

Dedue looked at the plants around Ashe. Sprouts in clay pots created a semi-circle before them. Many withered toward the soil; a few of the leaves were rimmed in yellow and brown. 

“They're dying,” Ashe said with such distress Dedue nearly reached out for him. “I thought I followed your instructions, but I seem to have messed it all up. And no matter what I do they don't get any better. They just keep turning brown and wilting and I don't know how to help them. Oh, I killed them. I really killed them, didn't I? I didn't mean to, I just--”

Dedue covered Ashe's mouth with his own. It was sudden, a swift motion that surprised even Dedue himself. He could feel Ashe mumbling against him a moment longer, then he relaxed, his sweet mouth pressing against Dedue's. He tasted like the mint tea he drank in the morning, a fragrance as fresh as the blooms arrayed around them. 

Dedue broke the kiss. “I apologize,” he said.

“It's... OK...” Ashe said. The flush in his cheeks had deepened to the burning red of sunset. 

“I... do not think you killed them,” Dedue said. 

Ashe blinked, as though only just remembering the plants he'd fretted over moments ago. “I didn't?”

Dedue shook his head, gathering himself before speaking again. “They are... you might say they are sleeping.”

“Plants do that?”

“Yes. They live in cycles. They will return to bloom at the appropriate time.” He pushed a finger into the soil, testing its resistance and moisture. “It seems to me they are well tended.” 

Ashe smiled, bright as a flower unfurling it petals in the sunlight. “I'm so glad! Oh, thank you, Dedue.” 

Dedue had to clear his throat before he responded, “It is nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	8. Dimitri/Sylvain, kiss on a scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri is recovering from his injuries under Sylvain's watch.

When Dimitri awoke, someone sat beside him, hunched over onto the bed and sleeping on their folded arms. His vision swirled as he blinked to clear it. He groaned, pressing a hand over his eye--over what should have been his eye. The tangled ruin that remained throbbed. He could feel the ridges of skin puckered over the now-empty socket. 

The person on the bed stirred. 

“Dedue?” Dimitri said. “Could you get me--”

“It's me.”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri said. The pain in his head dulled to an ache; his vision steadied at last. “What are you doing here?” 

Sylvain stretched, wincing as his back popped. His hair stuck out at odd angles. A faint suggestion of facial hair prickled at his cheeks. Just how long had he been here? “Guess I was worried,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Worried?”

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain said. “You were a wreck when we found you. It's a miracle we got you back here at all. You've been out for days.”

“Days...” Dimitri rubbed his forehead. He remembered the beginning of the battle, taking on a troop of foes on his own as he tried to cut his way back to Garreg Mach alone. Then, abruptly, his memory went black. 

“Hey,” Sylvain said, “don't push yourself. It'll come back.” He reached out to pat Dimitri's hand on the bed. 

“What happened to my eye?” Dimitri said. 

Sylvain flinched. “We aren't really sure. When we found you it was just like that. Mercie did everything she could but it's... it's probably going to stay like that.” 

Dimitri grazed the mangled scar where his eye should have been. It hurt even to touch, but not as bad as the ache of trying to see and being met with... not quite darkness, just... nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Hey,” Sylvain said. He'd scooted closer, cupping Dimitri's hand in both of his. “You're gonna be OK, Dimi. You're safe now.” 

It wasn't safety he was concerned with at the moment. Dimitri floundered for words, but how could he describe a lifetime of frustration boiling over all at once? How could he describe fighting and struggling and scraping just to have it all crumble to dust in his hands? He grit his teeth, grinding feckless rage into his very bones, aching with despair. 

“Dimi.” Sylvain's soft call drew him back. Sylvain's hand moved up to his cheek, his thumb stroking, willing Dimitri's teeth to unclench. 

Sylvain bent forward, laying a kiss light as a gasp of sunlight between storm clouds on the coiling scars over his eye. 

“We're with you,” Sylvain said. And Dimitri believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	9. Sylvain/Ashe, kiss to distract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain had a terrible idea. Ashe followed along. Felix is probably going to kill them both.

Five.

Ashe has precisely five seconds left before he and Sylvain both die horribly. 

He'd told Sylvain this was a bad idea. A stupid, stupid, _terrible_ idea. But he'd followed him anyway, letting Sylvain talk him into picking the lock to Felix's bedroom so they could sneak in. Sylvain hadn't told Ashe what he was looking for, just that it was “totally worth it.” 

And now, footsteps are approaching, the light, careful, perfectly measured footsteps of a very prickly swordsman about to find two idiots in his room and slaughter them both. 

Four.

Ashe scans for an escape. Window? Too high up. Closet? Too tight to fit them both. A sword to skewer himself on before Felix can do the deed himself? That's just about the only viable option left, to Ashe's eyes. 

“Come on,” Sylvain says. He grabs Ashe by the front of his shirt and if Ashe had more than four seconds left to live he might just protest and tell Sylvain what a stupid, stupid, _terrible_ idea this had all been. But as it is--

Three.

There are just three seconds left. Ashe's life flashes before his eyes, even as Sylvain yanks him along. He pulls Ashe so hard that Ashe stumbles, ending up unsteady in his arms.

Two.

Sylvain tilts Ashe's head up and Ashe feels his eyes go wide. _What is he--_

One.

And Sylvain kisses him. 

Ashe's squeak of surprise comes at nearly the same moment as Felix's grunt when he rounds the corner to find his bedroom door open and his friends making out inside. Sylvain lays into the kiss, smothering Ashe's mouth, jabbing his tongue past Ashe's lips, gripping his hair to keep him in place. For a moment, Ashe almost forgets that they're about to die.

“What the _fuck_?” Felix snarls.

They break apart with a gasp.

“Felix?” Sylvain says, and if Ashe didn't know better he might believe he was genuinely shocked.

“Why are you in my room?”

“Your room?” Sylvain says. “This is...” He looks around, gasping. “Oh shit.”

Felix stomps toward them. Ashe flinches back, but the swordsman goes right for Sylvain, grabbing him by the collar. Sylvain puts his hands up defensively. 

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here,” Felix grits out.

“Heat of the moment, man,” Sylvain says. “Your door must have been unlocked. We were aiming for my room, I swear.”

“My door is never unlocked.”

“Look, if you want to join, I get it,” Sylvain said. “There's no need to make excu--”

Felix smacks Sylvain on the side of his head, but growls, “Just get out. _Now_.”

Sylvain hastens to do just that, taking Ashe by the wrist and dragging him along behind him. For a moment, Ashe almost forgets the whole story is bullshit. Then Sylvain looks over his shoulder at Ashe and winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	10. Glenn/Christophe/Holst, kiss in joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn, Christophe and Holst get to see the adults their younger siblings are growing into and they couldn't be more proud of Felix, Ashe and Hilda.

“They're all doing so well,” Christophe mused. He watched the silver-haired boy brush through him, bow in hand, steps light and eager as Ashe hurried through the halls of Garreg Mach. 

“They are,” Glenn said. 

Christophe saw him smile when Felix intercepted Ashe in the hall. 

“Let's follow them,” Christophe said. 

Glenn nodded. They trailed in the wake of their brothers, lingering in the dark outlines of the bricks of the Officers Academy. When Ashe and Felix stepped outside, Christophe and Glenn took to the skirts of the bushes, the shifting shadows beneath the trees, the crevices between the paving stones. 

Holst awaited them in the training hall. 

“Look at her,” he said, pride swelling his voice. “She's so strong.”

Hilda hacked through straw training dummies, her axe a silver glint as it sliced through practice foes. She startled when Ashe and Felix entered the room, coming up with some excuse about Claude forcing her to come clean weapons. 

“She'll never admit it,” Holst said, “but she works harder than anyone.”

As Hilda exited the training hall, the air stirred in her wake, sending the three specters looming at the corners fluttering. Hilda paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder to the place where Christophe, Glenn and Holst loitered against the shade cast by the cornerstones. Her face tightened; she looked directly at them. But the next instant she shrugged, passing out of the hall.

Ashe and Felix had begun sparring, Felix fixing Ashe's form as he struggled with a sword. 

“Hot damn,” Glenn breathed. 

“What is it?” Christophe said.

“He likes him,” Glenn said. “Felix is never this patient.” A wide grin broke across his face. “Merciful Seiros, I thought it would never happen.”

Christophe and Holst chuckled, their laughter a soft breeze wafting through the training area. It prickled Ashe and Felix's necks and the pair paused in their training, searching for the source. Christophe met Ashe's clear green eyes, still so wide and hopeful, still full of such wonder, even after all the poor child had been through, and his heart tried to burst through his chest. 

“Felix better deserve him,” Christophe said, only half in jest.

“He will,” Glenn said, “if he's serious.”

“He's always serious,” Christophe said. 

“Touche,” Glenn said. He regarded each of his companions in turn. “We ought not linger too long.”

“You're right,” Christophe said, but it was so hard to turn away from this glimpse of Ashe after so long separated. “I'm so proud of all of them.”

“Me too,” Glenn said.

“They'll finish what we started,” Holst said. “They'll remake this world. And it will be glorious when they do.” 

It was strange, feeling the warmth of a smile spread across a face Christophe knew was only temporary. Could spirits feel warmth? Apparently so, because as he took a final glimpse at Ashe, his chest tightened around his heart, flooding his tenuous form with such love he thought it might shred him into dust motes.

“Hey,” Glenn said, putting a hand on Christophe's translucent face. “It's almost time to go.”

Was he crying? Was that even possible? The joy Christophe felt at the brief glimpse was simply too much, now that he lacked a body to contain it, now that he was just a memory drifting between shadows. He reached for Glenn in return, needing to push his joy outward, needing to know if the others could feel the way he felt right now. 

The specter of Glenn's lips were soft as mist, but warm and reachable all the same. Christophe could feel their pale essences passing from one mouth to the other, melding like swirls of smoke coiling around each other. His love became Glenn's, and Glenn's became his, and as Holst joined them as well, his mouth pressing against the joyful tears dripping down Christophe's cheeks, he knew it was all real, every bit of it. Their joy, their love, their longing and pride. They didn't need bodies for these things, didn't need solid forms or audible voices. 

Christophe lost himself among the others, his form dissolving in a sigh as all three faded like dew burning off the grass at dawn. 

And if Ashe and Felix and Hilda happened to see a shadow flickering at their heels, if they happened to feel a hand on their shoulder as they trained, if they happened to find the bite of the wind could not reach them, perhaps they were just lucky that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	11. Linhardt/Metodey, kiss out of greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This pair is cursed af and I love it. Linhardt and Metodey. Good luck, everyone. BLOOD WARNING.

Metodey hissed when Linhardt unwrapped the bandage around his head. Blood dribbled from the laceration, rolling past his eye and down his cheek. Linhardt scrunched his whole face, his skin tinging green. He mopped up the blood delicately, then tossed the cloth away onto a pile of similar, red-stained rags. 

“Were you _trying_ to die?” Linhardt said. “So much blood.” 

His skin drained further, attempting to match his hair. But Metodey was fixated on the pile of red-stained rags behind him. His blood. All his blood. And so _much_ of it. How dare Linhardt take it all for himself and not even think of sharing? 

Linhardt tried to back away, presumably to get some other tool to erase the lovely crimson flecking Metodey's skin. The awful _unfairness_ of it boiled in Metodey's belly like a geyser about to blow.

He snatched Linhardt by the front of his shirt and yanked him to his mouth. Metodey's lips consumed Linhardt's mouth; his tongue licked at Linhardt's lips. Where was the blood? Where was all that simmering, silky red Linhardt had taken from him? Metodey searched for the taste of iron in Linhardt's mouth, tongue scraping while Linhardt whimpered. 

When Metodey finally gave up, pushing away with a huff, Linhardt had gone from green to pink. 

“Mine,” Metodey snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	12. Sylvain/Ashe/Felix, kiss as comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a battle, Ashe could use a little comforting.

Ashe tugged an arrow out of the soldier's back. Flies buzzed over the body, basking in the putrid scent of death. 

Ashe muttered a prayer as he moved on, picking through the battlefield, whispering words of comfort and forgiveness for friend and foe alike. His quiver filled with bloodied arrows as his heart emptied of feeling.

He gasped when he saw two figures stumbling toward him through the fetid haze. They were bloodied and tottering, leaning heavily on each other as they struggled onward.

Ashe ran to them, leaping over bodies. Even from a distance, Sylvain's red hair gave him away. Felix slouched against him, his hair darkened with blood. A gash leaked blood down Sylvain's arm; Felix dragged one leg heavily with each step. Ashe wasn't sure which of his haggard companions looked worse. 

“Sylvain, Felix,” he said, the sight of them stealing his breath. “Goddess, are you OK?”

Sylvain attempted a grin. “We'll survive.”

“Will we?” Felix's harsh quip was so quiet Ashe almost missed it. His head hung. He spit a red glob. 

Ashe trembled. “Please, let me help.”

“Unless you're gonna warp Mercedes here, I don't know if you're gonna be much help,” Sylvain said.

“I learned a little white magic,” Ashe said. “It's not much, but you're not going to make it to Mercedes without it.” 

Sylvain nodded. Felix seemed too exhausted and beaten to protest. 

Ashe concentrated, trying to remember the spell Byleth had taught him. He wasn't great with magic, but with Byleth and Annette's help he'd managed a very simple healing spell. It couldn't do much more than close up cuts and scrapes, but Ashe hoped it was enough.

He put a hand on each of his companions, lightly touching their shoulders as he dragged the magic up out of himself and pushed it into their bodies. He heard Sylvain sigh; Felix breathed a little deeper. 

Ashe stepped back. “Did it help?” He clasped his hands to keep them from quivering, both from the exertion of the magic and the fear he felt looking at his friends so horribly injured. 

“You did great,” Sylvain said, with a real smile this time. 

But nothing about this felt “great” to Ashe. It all felt wrong; it felt disgusting and twisted and wrong. Death carpeted the land around them like a ghastly quilt. Even as Sylvain stood up straighter, a cut reopened and oozed blood down his arm. Felix stood on his own now, but coughed into his hand, frowning at the result. 

Ashe wanted to scream, wanted to flee, wanted to undo the horrible things he'd done in this place--and would probably have to do again.

“Hey,” Sylvain said. His hand on Ashe's shoulder pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. He frowned at the look on Ashe's face, his own expression going uncharacteristically somber. 

Sylvain pulled Ashe against him, hugging him tight to his chest. Something about the gesture broke the dam within Ashe, shattering the shield that had protected Ashe from the full horror of the battle around him. He felt himself begin to cry and hid his face against Sylvain, ashamed. 

Sylvain pushed him away gently, swiping at the tears on his cheeks. He smiled as he leaned down, kissing Ashe softly, a brief brush of lips. 

Ashe was still blinking from the contact when he felt a tug at his side and Felix was holding him now, giving him a swift, decisive peck. 

“You did well,” Felix said. He looked utterly, infuriatingly calm, as though the kiss had never occurred. “Thank you.”

Sylvain patted his shoulder and the two set off, walking under their own power now. Ashe turned to watch them go, blinking and touching his lips in wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	13. Ashe/Felix, kiss to give up control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe forces Felix to ask for what he wants.

He couldn't say it. He just couldn't. 

“Come on,” Ashe said, perched over him. “Tell me.”

Felix struggled not to squirm under him. He looked so lovely in the moonlight, his silver hair soft as starlight, his freckles pinpricks of heavenly light in the warm darkness. Felix reached up, tracing a finger along his chest. 

Ashe moved his hand away. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“Ashe, please,” Felix said.

Ashe shook his head, but he was smirking through it, his minty eyes sharp as chips of jade. “No, I want you to say it yourself.”

“Why? What's the point of this? It's not like you don't know.”

Ashe lingered, a smooth shadow in the dark, the curves of his body faintly outlined in cool light. Felix wanted to grab him, pull him close, smother his mouth so he couldn't make any more ridiculous demands. 

Ashe leaned down, kissing up Felix's neck. Felix exhaled a sigh as the shivers ran through him like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Only these aftershocks were happening before Ashe shattered him. 

Ashe reached his ear, his tongue flicking out. His lips brushed against the lobe as he said, “Tell me.” 

Felix trembled. He grit his teeth even as his heart fluttered: frantic, eager, terrified, ashamed, hungry. The conflict swirled in his belly, making him sick with want, but still he could do little more than whimper in response.

“Come on, Felix,” Ashe teased. “All you have to do is say it. Give in. Let go.” 

Felix nearly laughed. Let go? Just like that? Ashe made it sound so simple, but perhaps, with Ashe guiding him, with Ashe's hands manipulating him along the way, it truly could be that simple. 

His body acted on its own, strained past its limits. Felix grabbed Ashe's hair, yanking him to his mouth, pressing them together urgently. He panted even as his lips groped against Ashe's. The tiny noise Ashe made echoed down his throat and reverberated through his chest, adding to the ache pulsing there with every heartbeat. Felix thought he'd never get used to that sound; he'd never eat again if he could subsist off Ashe's soft moans instead, fulfilled to his very core. 

It took an effort to ease Ashe away from his mouth. But it was only so Felix could finally utter the words locked in his throat: “Fuck me.”

Ashe smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	14. (Octopath) Therion/Cyrus, kiss to shut them up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therion and Cyrus are trying to sneak into a mansion, but Cyrus won't shut up. Therion only has one choice...

Therion ground his teeth.

“The wind is coming from the east, meaning if we go down this hall and... yes... the moon should rise over there...”

Therion ground his teeth harder.

Cyrus rubbed his chin. “I presume you have the necessary tools, of course. What tools does one use? Lockpicks, naturally. Knives. Oh my, well, we shall have to hope it doesn't come to that. Tell me, Therion, are there multiple types of lockpicks? We ought to ensure we have the correct one for the job. It would depend upon the type of lock, I presume. Is that not so?”

“Sure,” Therion gritted out. He felt like he was going to snap his jaw from all the grinding. His response had to squeeze through the gaps between his teeth.

“How interesting,” Cyrus said. 

“We need to go,” Therion said.

“Oh!” Cyrus looked up, appraising the moon rising over the city. Silver light lit the bricks of the mansion they crouched against. It was unlucky, getting such a cloudless, bright night, but that was the least of Therion's concerns with the job. Not when he had Cyrus with him. 

_Why did they force me to bring him along?_ he grumbled. But already he could hear the others in his mind: _It's good for him_ , Tressa said. _More skills may proveth convenient_ , H'annit added. Alfyn just winked and even in his memory Therion attempted to choke the idiot apothecary. 

“Oh, I do believe I hear footsteps,” Cyrus said.

Therion jerked out of his thoughts and discovered the mage was correct. Steady footsteps crunched over the gravel of the gardens outside the mansion. 

“We ought to conceal ourselves,” Cyrus said.

Therion grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into a bristling shrubbery before he could talk more. Yet, unbelievably, his mouth just kept moving, even as they crouched among the needles.

“Is this sufficient cover? I do hope our shadows don't give us away. Given the angle of the moon--”

The footsteps were coming closer. Therion did the only thing he could to salvage the mission. He yanked Cyrus to him, covering his mouth with his own. Cyrus murmured surprise into Therion's mouth, but Therion just pressed harder, forcing his lips to still. 

Therion was watching the shadows move beyond the shrubbery when he felt a tongue pass his lips. Now it was his turn to jerk in surprise, pulling away. 

“Oh,” Cyrus said, “are we not...?” 

“The guard,” Therion grumbled.

“Ah,” Cyrus said. “I see. It was a ruse. Yes, quite good, quite good. Though, next time you could stand to improve your form, if I may be so bold.”

Therion ground his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	15. Ashe/Dedue, kiss to distract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe is overthinking during training and Dedue helps "clear his head."

Ashe's swing felt clumsy, the axe too heavy as it sliced at the practice dummy. It missed wide and Ashe set it down with a sigh.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm just not getting it.”

“Hm,” Dedue said. He rubbed at his lips. 

“What am I doing wrong?” Ashe said.

Dedue stood silently beside him, still as a statue and just as talkative. Then, he said, “I believe you are overthinking.” 

“Overthinking?” Ashe said. “How can you overthink an axe swing?”

“You are swinging with your mind, not your hands,” Dedue said. He raised his own axe, letting it swing around him. His movements were fluid, graceful. “You see that the axe will build its own momentum. It is heavy. You need not force it.” 

“Hm,” Ashe said. 

“Move with it, not against it,” Dedue said.

Ashe nodded and picked up his axe. He pondered it a moment, then tried a swing. But when he attempted to follow the flow of the axe's motion, he found it jerky and halting.

“You are still swinging with your mind,” Dedue said. 

Dedue set a hand on his shoulder and Ashe looked up. Dedue seemed to ponder him, to weigh Ashe with his eyes. Then he leaned down and Ashe could only blink as he felt Dedue's lips against his mouth, soft as the flower petals he so carefully tended, gentle as the sunlight that filtered through the glass of the greenhouse. Ashe felt like one of the garden's plants, cautiously coaxed along under Dedue's steady hands. 

Dedue straightened, clearing his throat. “Swing,” he said.

Ashe was still marveling at the pink tinge to Dedue's cheeks as he let the axe fall. It arced back up almost on its own this time and Ashe followed the motion, allowing the axe to carry itself in smooth loops with only a nudge.

Ashe gasped, stilling the axe. He beamed up at Dedue. “I did it. That was amazing. Dedue, thank you!” 

Dedue was smiling, the blush in his cheeks a receding sunset. “Very good,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	16. Ashe/Sylvain, kiss while playing a strategy game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe is trying to learn how to play chess, but his strategy is a bit unconventional.

Sylvain cringed as Ashe moved his bishop on the chess board. 

“Are you sure?” Sylvain said.

Ashe narrowed his eyes at Sylvain, slowly withdrawing the piece. “No helping, remember?”

“I'm not helping,” Sylvain said. “Just asking.”

“No asking then,” Ashe said. “Let me mess it up if I'm gonna mess it up.”

Sylvain sighed and sat back while Ashe rethought his move. Sunlight showered the gardens of Garreg Mach Monastery, coaxing open spring's early blooms. A couple strolled among the hedges. Another sat at a different table sipping their afternoon tea. At a glance, you might not even guess a whole war was going on, Sylvain mused. 

“OK, I think I've got it,” Ashe said. 

Sylvain returned his attention to the chess board, where Ashe moved a pawn into a truly disastrous position. Sylvain tried to suppress his reaction. Ashe was so earnest, and he tried so hard, but Sylvain was destroying him round after round with half-assed, lazy strategies. Still, Ashe insisted Sylvain not pull his punches and teach him the game properly. He was just never going to be a match for someone who'd grown up with chess board and tutors, though. 

“Sylvain,” Ashe said, “I can see how much you hate it.”

He gave up pretending, letting out a huff. “What am I supposed to do, Ashe? That move is...” He caught himself.

“Is what?” 

He clamped his teeth, shaking his head.

“Sylvain.”

He let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, Ashe. It's terrible. It's just terrible.” 

To his surprise, Ashe laughed, covering his mouth with a hand. “Come here,” he said. 

Sylvain leaned forward, expecting Ashe to whisper.

“No,” Ashe said. He waved. “Come over here.” 

Sylvain tilted his head, confused, but slid out of his chair and joined Ashe on his side of the table. Ashe pulled him down by his shirt, forcing Sylvain to lean over. Ashe met him on his way, kissing him as he dragged Sylvain down closer. Sylvain was too stunned to close his eyes, his vision filling with freckles. He could feel Ashe smiling as they broke apart.

“What was that for?” Sylvain asked, breathless.

“Strategy,” Ashe said. 

Sylvain looked back at the board, where Ashe's queen now stood unobstructed and unblockable right beside Sylvain's king.

“Checkmate,” Ashe said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	17. Ferdinand/Felix, kiss in challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is forced to compete against Ferdinand in the White Heron Cup.

Felix did not know how he'd come to be here. Yet here he was, dressed in thin silk and jangling gold and silver jewelry, his hair piled high while he danced before the entire Officers Academy. 

“You have the best footwork,” Byleth had said. 

But that footwork was meant for swords, not dancing. 

Felix was sure that fact showed now, as he closed his eyes and forced himself through the motions, praying for this humiliating ordeal to just finally end. 

He stopped, holding his final pose, and was met with utter, echoing silence. He let his arms fall, let his eyes creak cautiously open. The only sound filling the entire hall was his own breaths, which shortened as he met the horrible leering quiet around him. 

It was Sylvain who finally started clapping, the rest of the hall abruptly following. 

Felix couldn't take it another moment. He put his head down and ran, ran from the clapping, the stares, the whole mortifying ordeal. His absurd costume jangled as he burst out of the hall and into the cool night air.

Felix paused, trying to catch his breath, but his chest was too tight to let a full gulp of air through. _Why_ had Dimitri and Byleth insisted on imposing this on him? Why couldn't they have chosen someone, anyone, else? It's not like he was going to _win,_ so who even cared? 

“Felix.” 

He cringed, but it was none of the voices he expected. Perhaps it was only his surprise that convinced him to turn around and face Ferdinand, bright and ridiculous in his own dancer costume. 

“What?” Felix snapped.

“Come back inside,” Ferdinand said.

“No,” Felix said.

Ferdinand blinked as though genuinely surprised by Felix's reaction. “But... you won.”

“I...” It was Felix's turn to blink. “What?” 

“You won,” Ferdinand repeated. “They're looking for you to give you your award.”

“I don't want a fucking award.”

“But you earned it,” Ferdinand said. “Your dance was truly splendid. I … I confess I found even myself transfixed.”

Transfixed? What was this guy on? 

“You get the award then,” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“But it is rightfully yours,” Ferdinand said. “You earned it.”

Felix sneered, refusing to budge.

Ferdinand took a couple cautious steps toward Felix. “I must admit, I did not expect to encounter any true challenge in this competition. Especially coming from you.”

“Excuse me?” Felix said. 

“Apologies,” Ferdinand said. “Perhaps that was harsh. But can you truly blame me? You are as unlikely a champion as any I've met.” 

Felix raised an eyebrow.

“Please,” Ferdinand said, “I... I would like you to teach me.”

“Teach you?”

“You are the superior dancer,” Ferdinand said. “It only makes sense that I'd learn from you.” 

Ferdinand stepped even closer, putting himself within Felix's reach. 

Felix seethed. This whole thing was just so _ridiculous_ , from the costume to the competition itself to the absurd man waiting before him with his arms out as though preparing to waltz. 

Fine, Felix decided. If he wanted a dance, he'd get a damn dance.

Ferdinand let out a surprised little yelp when Felix hastily grabbed him and pulled him close. Ferdinand set his hand on Felix's shoulder. To his credit, he quickly matched Felix's steps and they fell into a smooth rhythm.

“You are quite sure and decisive,” Ferdinand mused. His voice was far too close to Felix's ear for his comfort. 

“Yeah, well, what else should I be?”

“It was not a criticism,” Ferdinand said. “I am merely observing your technique. Though I do wonder if anything might shake you from your course.”

“The hell's that mean?”

Felix had time to hear a short laugh, then Ferdinand leaned down and they were kissing as they danced. Felix accepted the challenge, pressing his mouth to Ferdinand, getting a small jerk of surprise in response, and never once letting his feet falter. Ferdinand wanted to shake him? He'd have to try a lot harder than a kiss. 

They paused, letting their mouths and bodies drift apart. Felix could feel the heat in his cheeks, could see the blush in Ferdinand's, but he held his ground. 

“Well,” Ferdinand said, “you truly are an unflappable dancer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	18. Ignatz/Lorenz, kiss in public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignatz has had enough of their sneaking around.

Lorenz dropped his hand when they turned the corner.

Ignatz felt cold, startled, abruptly alone. It took him a moment to realize that the rest of the Golden Deer were just ahead, heading toward class in a cluster. 

“Hey,” Hilda called when she spotted the pair. “You're gonna be late, guys. Come on.”

Lorenz hurried away, leaving Ignatz behind. It was always like this, holding his hand one moment, whispering poetry in his ear, tucking flowers into his hair—and then vanishing like a candle abruptly snuffed out. If Lorenz noticed even a single curious gaze turned their way, he ran, abandoning Ignatz to sort through his confusion and hurt alone.

Not this time, Ignatz decided. 

He marched up to his classmates, who were already chatting about their next lesson. Lorenz stood among them, arms folded, talking with the others as though he hadn't been feeding Ignatz chocolates and sweet nothings only moments before. 

“Lorenz,” Ignatz said. His hands were balled up into fists at his sides. 

Lorenz turned slowly, a cringe caught in his face. He attempted to compose himself. “Excuse me, Ignatz, but I was engaged in conversation.”

“You forgot something,” Ignatz said. 

Lorenz put a hand to his chest as though offended. “Excuse me, but I do not think--”

Ignatz grabbed him before he could go on, pulling Lorenz to his mouth right in front of the rest of the Golden Deer. He pressed his mouth tight to Lorenz's lips, willing him to taste all the sweetness they'd shared in private. _Yes, you're kissing a commoner boy in front of all them,_ Ignatz thought. _Live with it._

But Lorenz did not pull away or protest. After a moment of shock, he relaxed against Ignatz. And there it was, the scent of roses, the taste of the fancy, imported chocolate Lorenz had purchased just for Ignatz. 

It was Ignatz who finally relented, releasing Lorenz and easing away. He expected stares, questions, accusations, but the rest of the Golden Deer had moved on to some other conversation and hardly paid Lorenz and Ignatz any mind. 

“Are you two done yet?” Claude said.

“I... uh... what?” Ignatz said.

Hilda rolled her eyes. “So dramatic. As though we haven't all known for like a month. You two are ridiculous.” She mussed Ignatz's hair. “But you're cute so it's OK.” She winked and the whole class set off, leaving Ignatz and Lorenz to gape, rosy and stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	19. Edelgard/Hubert, first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard has a special task for Hubert.

Hubert entered the throne room and stopped short. It was empty. Cavernous, grand, full of imposing columns and intricate tapestries, but utterly, starkly empty. 

He took a few steps, listening to his feet echo softly. He'd been summoned here by the emperor herself, yet he saw no sign of Edelgard or anyone else. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Could it be a trap? He'd detected no deception. How could he be so wrong?

He startled when he finally heard footsteps. Hubert turned toward the side of the room, where a door hidden against the stone now opened. Edelgard stepped out, pacing toward him. 

“Hubert,” she said as she approached. 

“Lady Edelgard,” he said. 

She paused before him, hesitating. He tried to keep the suspicion from his face, but could feel his eyes narrowing. She still wasn't speaking, leaving that awful silence to slosh around them. 

“My lady,” he tried.

“I know,” she snapped. 

He straightened at her sudden anger, hands clasped behind his back. “I'm sorry, my lady. I meant no offense.” 

She shook her head in a swift jerk. “No, it's not you, Hubert. I apologize. I just... I am not sure how to ask this.”

“My lady,” Hubert said, “you can ask anything of me. Please, I am ever at your service.” 

“I know,” she said. “I know that. But...” She looked down. Even so, Hubert could see the heat in her cheeks, a flutter of pink beating at her face. 

She gathered herself, stepping even closer and glaring right up at him. The pink in her cheeks deepened, even as she fixed him with her eyes. 

“Hubert, I would like you to kiss me,” Edelgard said.

He reeled back a step. 

“Hubert,” she snapped. “This is an order.”

“My lady... I...” He could not defy her, and yet... “Why?” he asked. 

She faltered, her stern mask cracking. “It has... come to my attention... that... that... I have never kissed anyone.” 

Hubert clenched his hands to keep his face steady. Surely, this was some jest. Even _he_ had kissed someone before. But Edelgard wasn't moving, just staring at him, blushing and determined, waiting. 

“OK,” he said.

“What?”

“Very well,” Hubert said, trying to regain some dignity. 

“OK,” she said. “So... how do we...”

He cleared his throat, stepping a little closer. He awkwardly thunked his hands down on her shoulders. He'd touched her before, but as her advisor, her friend. Not... not like this. 

She did not return his embrace, merely stood up straighter, proper and dignified as she awaited his kiss. 

“Ehem, OK, well,” he said. “I shall, uh, lean closer now.” 

“Very well,” she said. “I am ready.” 

“Yes, well...” 

He swallowed, hard, then bent forward. The longer he hesitated the worse it all became. His lips barely brushed hers. He kept his mouth closed, squeezed his eyes shut and simply let their lips linger.

It was awful.

He moved away after only a moment. Edelgard's eyebrows were raised.

“I am no expert,” she said, “but I do not believe that qualified as a kiss, Hubert.”

“You're right,” he said. “My apologies.” 

He straightened up, readjusting his hold on her shoulders. This time, she met him along the way, adding force to the kiss. Her lips parted against his and he felt a tongue poke at his mouth. Hubert's eyes fluttered open in surprise, even as his mouth opened for her. He could taste her all around him now, strong and sweet all at once, the scent of steel intricately woven through the smell of the flowers she put in her bath water. 

She pulled away first, touching her lips thoughtfully. 

“Well,” she said. “That was... instructive. Thank you for your help, Hubert.” 

She started to move away. He bowed from the waist, as much to hide his face as to acknowledge his lady as she left, her scent still lingering all around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	20. Dedue/Ashe, awoken by a kiss on NYE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe plans the perfect New Year's Eve party, but doesn't realize he's stretched himself too thin.

First it was the invites, ensuring everyone got one, managing the questions and responses and “what should I bring” a dozen times over. 

Then, Ashe set out to clean his and Dedue's apartment, moving the couches to vacuum under them, scrubbing the bathroom until it was spotless, finding every crumb hiding in the corners of the kitchen. 

Finally, the day of the party arrived and Ashe could hardly sleep. He spent the day rushing between the grocery store and his kitchen, trying to manage the tray of cookies baking in the oven while cutting up cheese into cubes for the fondue pot. 

He heard Dimitri and Felix arrive while he was taking the first try of cookies out of the oven and setting in the next. 

“You ought to come say hello,” Dedue said, taking his hands to still Ashe's frantic flitting about the kitchen. 

“Just a few last things,” Ashe said.

Dedue did not respond, but Ashe saw the corners of his lips stretch just a fraction tighter. Anyone else might have missed it, but to Ashe it was like a flashing billboard. 

“I promise,” Ashe said. “You know I'll just worry if I don't finish it so you might as well let me finish it.” 

“Then you will come join everyone?” 

“Yes,” Ashe said. He got on his tip toes to give Dedue a peck. “I swear.” 

Dedue released his hands reluctantly and returned to the living room. Ashe heard his deep rumble join the voices of their friends, Mercie's high, sweet laugh, Annie's excited chatter, Sylvain's jovial jabs. It sounded like they were all having a good time. Ashe rushed around the kitchen, intent on keeping his promise and getting to join them.

Annette helped him set out the cookies and fondue and vegetable tray and pita platter he'd prepared. It joined a host of store-brand potato chips and cheap booze. 

“You really didn't need to do all this,” Dimitri said. 

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” Ashe said. 

Dedue was shaking his head. 

“We probably couldn't stop him even if we wanted to,” Annette said. “But at least he's finally out of that kitchen now.”

“Actually,” Ashe said, “there was one last thing I left.”

Annette grabbed his arm. “Absolutely not! I forbid you from hiding in that kitchen a single second longer.” 

Ashe relented, joining his friends for the rest of the evening. Before long, the voices on the television chirped with excitement. Everyone gathered around the couch to watch the ball drop. 

Ashe snuggled in between Dedue and Felix. Everyone was crunched close together, the body heat covering Ashe like a warm blanket. Both Dedue and Felix usually had little to say and even with the commotion of the rest of the party buzzing around them, Ashe found himself drowsy between the two silent pillars on either side of him. 

He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt Dedue's lips brush against his. Ashe didn't bother opening his eyes, leaning into the kiss while Dedue gently tilted his chin up. 

“Happy New Year,” Dedue said softly. Even in the din of the party, Ashe could pick out that deep, gentle call. 

He smiled, finally opening his eyes. Dedue was the first sight of the new year. 

“Happy New Year,” Ashe said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	21. Rodrigue/F!Byleth, kiss for new year's luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle Fraldarius feels a bit empty in Rodrigue's older age. Luckily, Byleth is still there with him.

The castle was empty. 

Well, not _empty_ , but it felt that way to Rodrigue. Even after his wife's death, there'd been the boys always scampering around, often with Sylvain and Ingrid and Dimitri in tow. And even when Glenn died as well, there was still Felix, growing up angry and sad and determined. 

But now, now there was just space. Horrible, empty space. 

Felix was a man, and a capable one at that. Everyone was waiting for Rodrigue to step aside and let Felix take his place. The advisers and servants who'd been with Rodrigue most of his life were leaving, or passing on. The castle was more empty every day, more cavernous, more echoing. 

Rodrigue opened the doors to the balcony adjoining his personal chambers. Despite the chill, he stepped outside, leaning against the stone railing. It seemed the cold bit deeper with each year that passed, though Rodrigue was sure that was merely his own years chipping at his defenses. 

He sighed. He really would have to turn everything over to Felix soon and admit how time had reached and softened him. 

A light knock sounded at his door. 

“Enter,” he called without turning around. 

It took the intruder a few moments to find him, but then Byleth stepped up beside him on the balcony. 

“Nice night,” Byleth said, folding her arms on the railing. 

“I suppose,” Rodrigue said. 

He expected the former professor to say more, but she remained stubbornly silent. Living with her since the war had been... refreshing, to say the least. Rodrigue couldn't imagine why she'd chosen Fraldarius, why she'd chosen _him_ , but he was fortunate she had. 

“Did you need something?” he asked.

“No,” Byleth said. 

“Then...” 

She pointed at the moon cutting a bright, crooked grin in the night sky. “Another year passes.” 

“Indeed,” Rodrigue said, still confused.

“Well,” Byleth said. She turned toward him and he stood up straighter in response. Byleth pried his hands loose in order to hold them. “It is traditional, and lucky, to begin a new year with a kiss.” 

He smiled. “Is it?” 

She might have been lying, but neither of them cared. Rodrigue slid his hands from hers and around her waist, nudging her close. She helped ward off the chill, making the night seem warm, even in Fraldarius. 

“It is,” Byleth said, even as she started to reach up. 

He bent to meet her, letting their lips collapse together. And suddenly the world felt full: of warmth, of light, of time. Byleth was brighter than any sickle of moonlight, warmer than any cloak. Even so, he felt himself softening yet further. Somehow, even feeling weak was different while he was in Byleth's embrace. 

She eased down off her tip toes, parting their mouths. “To another year,” she said.

The quiet castle hulked around them, a mountain in the darkness. But not empty. Not anymore. “Another year,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	22. Dimitri/Sylvain, New Year's kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain's grand romantic plans go awry, but Dimitri doesn't mind.

Sylvain kicked the car's tire. “Piece of shit,” he hissed. 

Dimitri stepped out of the passenger side. “Any luck?”

Sylvain grimaced before shaking his head. “It's dead.” He folded his arms, squeezing his frustration tight to his chest. “Fuck.” 

Dimitri walked around the car, coming to Sylvain's side. He calmly evaluated the unresponsive vehicle, now sitting in the shoulder of a two-lane road in bumblefuck nowhere. There were no streetlights, not this far out, so the only illumination they had available was their phones and the spattering of stars overhead. 

“Babe, I'm so sorry,” Sylvain said.

“Sorry for what?”

Sylvain waved at the disaster before them. “This. Gods, it was supposed to be our first New Year's together. It was gonna be perfect. The stars, the champagne, a kiss at midnight. I had all these grand plans and as usual they just went to shit.” 

Dimitri smiled at him, taking his hands to coax them loose. “This isn't shit.”

“You don't need to sugar coat it,” Sylvain said. “I knew the car had problems and I didn't take it to the shop and now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Sylvain.” 

He met Dimitri's eye sheepishly. 

“Stop it,” Dimitri said. “Look.” He pointed up, but all Sylvain saw was empty sky, bleak and vast and featureless save for the swirl of stars. 

“I don't get it,” Sylvain said. 

“Shh,” Dimitri said.

Sylvain complied, standing hand-in-hand with Dimitri at the side of the road. Dimitri glanced at his phone, then put it away. And for a long while they merely stood, silently observing the dark. 

“10...” Dimitri said softly. Sylvain saw his phone glowing in his palm, the clock counting down. “5... 4... 3... 2... 1...”

He faced Sylvain, giving him a lingering, soft peck of a kiss, the kind of kiss meant for erasing tears and covering up scars. “Happy New Year,” Dimitri said. 

And in the quiet, the vast, empty darkness, Sylvain smiled too. “Happy New Year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	23. Edelgard/Hubert/Ferdinand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand insists on greeting the new year in the proper style, but his companions are not quite convinced.

“It simply must be done,” Ferdinand said. “There's no way around it. It is only proper.” 

Hubert gave him a pleading look. Edelgard tried, and failed, to suppress a grimace. 

“It is as though you two have never attended a proper New Year's event,” Ferdinand said. It was hard not to exclaim, what with his two dour companions looking at him like he was mad. They were the mad ones, thank you very much. At least he understood the proper decorum. 

“Ferdinand,” Edelgard said, “I do not believe...”

“It is preposterous,” Hubert cut in. But as soon as Ferdinand raised an eyebrow at him he flinched, his haughty indignation softening to a scowl. 

“I just do not see how it is possible,” Edelgard said. “Or why you deem it so terribly necessary.”

“Ridiculous,” Hubert muttered, a sullen shadow. 

But Ferdinand wasn't giving up that easily. It was New Year's Eve, after all, and he simply could not let the occasion pass. It was bad luck and poor form and Ferdinand von Aegir was not going to start his new year in such poor esteem with the gods. 

“Close your eyes,” he said.

His companions shared a wary glanced, but both did as he requested. Ferdinand left them like that for a long moment, watching the sky, listening to the din of the distant party, waiting for his signal. The voices below them rose, chanting in unison, then broke off abruptly to erupt in cheers. 

Ferdinand took his moment, stepping close to Edelgard first, swallowing her little sound of surprise as he kissed her. He dared not linger too long, only long enough to ensure it was a true and proper kiss, then he moved to Hubert, doing the same, and being greeted with a different but just as lovely murmur of surprise. They weren't so different, Ferdinand realized, both softer than they appeared, both insisting on pressing back firmly and holding their ground once they realized what he was doing, both bitter like coffee but hiding something sweeter under the surface. 

Her stepped away, hands on his hips, chest puffed out, feeling quite proud of himself. Hubert and Edelgard both looked a bit rosier than when the night began. Their eyes skittered around nervously. 

“Now,” Ferdinand said, “we have greeted the new year properly and can be assured of our future success. Don't you feel better? I trust it wasn't so arduous an ordeal as you feared.” 

They shared a glance. “Shut up, Ferdinand,” Hubert said.

Then both rose, each looping an arm through one of his. It was Ferdinand's turn to feel nervous and unsure as Edelgard and Hubert started pulling him along. 

“We shouldn't miss the party,” Edelgard said. Then, quieter, “And... happy New Year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	24. Claude/Lorenz, kiss for New Year's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenz hates standing outside in the cold watching the countdown clock, but Claude makes the experience worthwhile.

Lorenz was freezing. Freezing, miserable, cold, absolutely frigid and uncomfortable and _freezing_. He hugged his arms around himself, glancing to the side to see Claude and Marianne and Hilda chatting and laughing as though their breath wasn't puffing out before them with every word, as though their noses weren't red with the bite of the wind, as though they didn't have to stamp their feet every few minutes just to feel them. 

And _why_ were they standing out here freezing? Why? Lorenz sent a withering glare at the flashing billboard flickering on the side of a building downtown, a building only steps away from where the group huddled in a jostling, murmuring crowd. 

It was all to stare at that silly billboard and watch the time tick down on it. 

_Absurd,_ Lorenz thought. _Ridiculous. Preposterous. Obscene._

But then Claude looked over at him, smiling a question, and Lorenz found himself attempting to smile in return, gods damn him. 

Claude saw through it. He patted Lorenz's shoulder in a gesture far too friendly and safe. “I know you're miserable right now, Lorenz, but this is totally gonna be worth it.”

Lorenz attempted to regain some amount of dignity. “I am sure.” 

Claude flicked his chin with a finger. “Chin up. It'll be great.” 

Claude, Hilda and Marianne all turned to watch the billboard tick down, but Lorenz was stuck thinking about that finger against his chin, a soft brush altogether _more_ than merely friendly. He heard voices rise around him, a tide swelling, but ignored them, trapped in that one moment, still feeling Claude's playful touch on his skin. 

The noise grew, filling the cold dark where bodies jostled and the billboard blinked an urgent countdown. They stood in the center of a beehive, the swarm roiling around them. The sound became a physical pressure, pulsing on every side, leaving Lorenz with a dizzying swell of vertigo as so many voices counted in unison. 

Then it broke, scattering into wild cheers. People jumped. Confetti popped, fluttering down from somewhere high above. Claude leapt into his arms, hugging Lorenz and laughing and oh—Hugging him. 

They stopped, their eyes going wide as they realized how they stood holding each other. Claude shouted something, but Lorenz just shook his head, deaf in the din. Claude leaned even closer, speaking right at Lorenz's ear. 

“--ike you--” Lorenz heard. 

Claude stood back, smiling, waiting, his arms still flung around Lorenz, who could only stare wide-eyed. 

“Well?” Claude said. Mouthed, really, because between the noise and his own shock Lorenz could hear little but his own hammering heart. 

He was moving before he even realized it, crashing forward, pushed by the noise and the moment and the vertigo swirling around his head. Lorenz crashed against Claude, his lips clumsy as they found Claude's. _What are you doing?_ some piece of his mind demanded, but it was just as faint as every other noise swallowed in the cacophony. 

Claude responded, less awkward and clumsy than Lorenz, but just as impulsive. And suddenly the whole world was Claude, his hands on the sides of Lorenz's head, his lips massaging Lorenz's open, his warm scent like chamomile and pine needles making Lorenz even dizzier. 

Lorenz didn't realize the crowd had quieted to a tolerable chatter until he and Claude broke apart. He looked around as though trying to remember where he was, and why. 

“Geeze, you two, get a room,” Hilda said. 

Claude rolled his eyes. “You first.” 

Hilda shrugged, pulling Marianne tighter to her side. “I never made any pretense about watching the ball drop 'as friends.' Don't blame me.” 

Lorenz stopped listening at they went on playfully bickering. He smiled, suddenly warm despite the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	25. Hubert/Ferdinand, kiss for the new year in Enbarr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard is hosting Dimitri and his Blue Lions for a new year's party in Enbarr, but Hubert isn't willing to trust his former enemies.

Hubert watched. The balcony overlooking the grand ballroom afforded him an unobstructed view of the guests as they filtered into the party. The chandeliers were lit, the tables laden with imported cheese, sliced fruit, delicate, palm-sized pies. Servants wove between guests with platters of watered wine. 

Hubert's eyes narrowed when he spotted Dimitri among the guests. He wore a cape emblazoned with the symbol of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. _A fresh start, indeed,_ Hubert mused, yet here they all were, the former Blue Lions with all their crests and heraldry on display. Hubert's hand itched for knives and poisons, but Edelgard had promised her step-brother peace and for this night, so he would have it. As long as he behaved.

“You cannot hide up here all night,” Ferdinand said as he slid to Hubert's side. 

“Why not?” Hubert said. 

Ferdinand laughed. “Because I won't allow it.”

Hubert finally turned to regard Ferdinand. “Won't you?” His sun-gold hair burst around a red ribbon, spilling out in a tumble that cascaded down his chest. It hid some of the gold embroidered on his vest, but Hubert thought Ferdinand's hair far finer than any thread. 

“Come along,” Ferdinand said. He took Hubert's hand, tugging him away from the balcony and down the hidden stairway that would lead them to the ballroom. Hubert nearly regretted showing Ferdinand some of his secret paths; the man made far too frequent use of them for frivolous purposes. But it did mean they were alone for a few blissful moments before they stepped into the noise and commotion of the party. 

Ferdinand instantly started mingling with the other guests, including some of the hated Lions. No, not hated. At least, Hubert had to pretend they weren't hated. That was a direct order from Edelgard herself. 

“It's quite good with this one,” Ashe was saying. He presented something to Ferdinand and it took all Hubert's control not to smack it to the floor. Ashe was far too cheerful all the time to be trusted; he could easily have slipped something foul into the tart he presented with those deft, thieving fingers of his. 

But Ferdinand was already taking a bite, heedless of the animosity that had nearly ripped the world apart because of people like Ashe. 

“You're quite right!” Ferdinand said. “My, Ashe, you have quite the flare for culinary arts.”

Ashe blushed (it had to be another ruse. No grown man blushed that adorably). “Oh, I learned a few things here and there,” he said. 

“Hubert, please, I must insist you try this,” Ferdinand said. He held up the tart. 

Hubert couldn't stop a sneer. “I am not hungry,” he tried.

“Just a bite,” Ferdinand insisted.

And only because it was Ferdinand, Hubert complied, taking the smallest bite he thought might satisfy Ferdinand. He chewed, bracing, but... it was... it was good. It was _very_ good. 

“That look means he likes it,” Ferdinand said. 

“Oh, I could tell,” Ashe said. “I've known Felix long enough.”

They laughed together and Hubert's mouth went sour. All well and good, for people like Ashe and Ferdinand to find this so endearing and jovial, but Hubert wasn't letting his guard down that easily. 

The party wore on, the time going fuzzy as alcohol and conversation blurred the line between one hour and the next. No one remarked on the awful strangeness of this forced peace, acting as though this party in Enbarr was completely ordinary and unremarkable. At some point, Hubert lost track of Ferdinand, and felt nearly frantic for it. Each moment that passed made it more likely that Dimitri would launch some sort of trick or plot that Hubert hadn't yet spotted. 

“Hubert.” 

He nearly startled when he felt Ferdinand tugging at his sleeve. 

“Would you join me?” 

Hubert had no idea what Ferdinand wanted, but nodded anyway, following him away from the party. They stepped outside onto a balcony. The cool night air felt cleansing after the stale heat of the party. The cacophony of conversation dimmed to a din as they retreated to a dark stone railing that was invisible in the deep, still darkness. 

“It is almost time,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert tilted his head to the side and Ferdinand gestured back at the party. Edelgard was standing above the crowd, making some speech. Hubert tensed, but Ferdinand stoked his arm.

“It is not a ruse,” Ferdinand said. “She really means to reconcile this strife we're all caught in, start the new year fresh.”

“New year,” Hubert scoffed. “An arbitrary line. It will not stop a war.”

“Perhaps not,” Ferdinand said, “but we are all here trying. That's something.” 

Hubert said no more, unwilling to dash this bright, hopeful creature's optimism any further. 

“I hope her new year's wish comes true,” Ferdinand said. “I... I also would like to start the new year hopeful.” He held Hubert's hands now and squeezed them as he spoke.

“And what might make you hopeful?” Hubert said.

Ferdinand merely smiled. For a moment, it felt like it was only Ferdinand's hands keeping Hubert from toppling over in the light breeze that whispered through invisible boughs far below them. Even in the dark, Ferdinand seemed to shine, to radiate warmth, like a jewel with a shard of sunlight trapped within it, constantly glowing. 

The guests at the party gave a cheer. Hubert could hear their glasses clinking for toasts. The firelight from the chandeliers flickered on the balcony, tracing the side of Ferdinand's face in gold. 

Hubert bent to Ferdinand, a shadow covering the sun, yet Ferdinand rose to meet him as he always did. Each time, Hubert was amazed to feel that soft warmth again, was amazed to feel it coming to him, searching for _him_. But oh, how sweet it was. Soft and fruity like the apples growing in the orchards of Enbarr, drinking in the sunlight and the rains that arrived from the sea and the heat that rolled over the plains. Hubert was a cloud passing before the sun, dimming all that brilliance and life, yet Ferdinand's lips pressed against his, luxuriating as though he could offer any warmth in return. 

A sigh slipped out as they eased apart. 

“To a hopeful new year,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert tucked a few stray strands of hair behind Ferdinand's ear. “To hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	26. Ashe/Felix, offering a New Year's kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and Felix have no one to kiss as the clock counts down. Luckily, Ashe makes a generous offer.

“It's a... boat. A ship.”

“No, canoe.”

“It's not a canoe.”

“Well it's also not a ship.” 

“Gravy boat! Gravy boat!”

“Yes!” Sylvain said, slamming down a playing card. 

Half the group groaned; the other cheered. Ashe tipped back his drink, but found the glass empty. He scooted away from the table where his friends still argued over the points on the card and slipped off to the kitchen to refill his glass, wobbling a bit on the way there. 

“Oh,” Ashe said when he entered the kitchen. Felix stood at a counter contemplating a bottle of vodka. His hair was messy after hours of drinking at the party, a few long, silky strands slipping free of his perpetual bun to tumble down his neck. Ashe suddenly felt an urge to tug on them, to feel those smooth locks in his hands. They looked so soft. He could just imagine them brushing his fingers like a breath tickling over his skin.

“Ashe.”

He startled, blinking rapidly. 

“Are you OK?” Felix said.

Ashe shook his head. “Yeah. I just... I was here for a drink.”

“Me too,” Felix said. “But I can't remember what I was drinking.” His lips quirked. Was that a smile? If Ashe didn't know better, he'd think Felix was laughing at himself.

Ashe shuffled closer. “This is weird but... can I smell your glass?” 

Felix's eyebrow rose but he turned over his glass. Ashe took a sniff. The lingering vapors of the alcohol made his head swim. 

“It's that one,” he said, pointing at a blue bottle. 

Felix regarded him curiously before muttering “thanks” and taking his glass back. 

The chatter outside the kitchen coalesced, bunching up like the strands of a braid pulling tightly together. Everyone seemed to be gathering around, chanting, counting. Counting.

“Oh no,” Ashe said.

“What is it?” Felix said.

“It's almost midnight,” he said. 

“So?” 

“We're gonna miss it,” Ashe said. He contemplated abandoning his drink and rushing to join the others, but there was something in the way Felix was studying him that made Ashe want to stay put. 

“So?” Felix said again.

“You're supposed to—” Ashe caught himself, but it was too late. The heat that stole into his cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the amber eyes calmly picking him apart. 

“ 'Supposed to,' huh?” Felix said.

Ashe nodded. 

“Too bad for us, I guess,” Felix said. 

“I could... I mean... We don't have to miss it,” Ashe said. And holy shit, was he really still talking? _Shut up,_ he thought desperately. _Shut up, shut up, shut up._ But his stupid mouth just kept opening. “I wouldn't mind.”

“How generous.” 

_Stupid. So stupid._ His cheeks burned like they were trying to melt. “I didn't mean it like that. I just meant...”

A smile pulled one side of Felix's mouth. The rest of the party screamed “happy new year,” the sound washing out any chance Ashe might have at taking back his stupid, stupid words. 

Felix set a hand on his shoulder, leaning over so casually Ashe thought he meant merely to whisper something. But Felix brought his lips to Ashe's mouth and not his ears, a swift, surprising, decisive kiss. Ashe had only an instant in which to realize it was Felix's sure lips pressing against his, Felix's hair tickling his forehead, Felix's smell replacing all the air in the room. 

Then, just as swiftly, it was over and Felix patted his shoulder as though nothing of note had happened. “Happy New Year,” Felix said. 

He exited the kitchen, leaving Ashe behind clutching his empty glass and running his fingertips over his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	27. Claude/Dedue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude finds the celebrations at the monastery a bit strange and commiserates with Dedue.

Claude sat on the ledge, watching the monastery shift around him. People strolled by arm-in-arm or traveled in loud, excited groups. It seemed the entire Officers Academy was out that night, many with drinks in their hands. The entire monastery quivered like air beaten by a wyvern's massive wings, swirling in every direction. 

Claude spotted a lone figure in the dark. They stood out for their solitude as the rest of the Officers Academy bunched into excited groups like flickering stars orbiting each other. 

He hopped off the ledge, approaching Dedue, who stood by himself regarding the chaos with a wary expression. 

“Quite an interesting custom, huh?” Claude said. 

Dedue's scowl twisted a little deeper. “I have witnessed it many times.”

“Well, sure, so have I,” Claude said. “Doesn't make it any less strange.”

Dedue shrugged. “They enjoy it.” 

“I didn't say it was harmful. Just odd,” Claude said. “Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself anyway?” 

“I thought I might take my evening walk,” Dedue said. “But it has been quite... tumultuous.”

“I bet,” Claude said. “Why don't I join you then?” 

Dedue looked at him curiously, but relented with a nod. 

“I think I can steer us away from the beaten path a bit,” Claude said. 

Dedue said nothing, but neither did he protest as Claude veered away from the main pathways where drunk students stumbled and laughed and toward the quieter paths most overlooked in their revelry. They came to a shaded little garden, a corner so easily overlooked Claude was honestly surprised to discover it. 

“Ah,” Dedue said. He nodded. “Yes, good choice.”

Claude had no idea what he meant, but decided to play along. “Oh, yeah, figured it might be more your speed. With the... plants... and stuff.”

Dedue was crouching down, ignoring Claude to examine a flower tucked in the crook of a stone wall. Even as the sky lit with fireworks and cheering, Dedue didn't move, examining the plant's stem, rubbing the petals gently between his fingers, nudging at the soil for reasons Claude could only guess at. There was something heart breakingly endearing about it. This man whom so many ridiculed and made snap judgments about, kneeling silently before a single little plant to tend it as though it was the most precious weed in all the world. 

Claude crouched beside him, steadying himself with a hand on Dedue's shoulder. Dedue glanced over at him, one eyebrow raising slightly. 

“I did not realize you were still here,” Dedue said. 

Claude just laughed, kissing Dedue before the opportunity passed. He was just as sweet and soft as his gentle nature suggested, not pulling away from the kiss but also not adding much force of his own. Dedue was a candle in the night, warm and quiet and faint, but oh so precious for all that. The noise of the monastery was gone, the cackle of laughter, the heavy weight of appraising eyes, the sting of whispers. There was only Dedue and this single plant, tucked away in a quiet, forgotten corner where no one thought to look. 

Claude eased away, leaving his hand on Dedue's shoulder. “So,” he said, “tell me all about this flower.” 

Dedue smiled, just faintly, and started to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	28. Ashe/Sylvain, kissing at a cuddly cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and Sylvain spend New Year's Eve cuddled up at a quaint little cabin.

A cabin wasn't exactly what Sylvain had had in mind when he suggested “doing something for new year's.” It was too remote, too quiet, too far from all the action. But the moment they'd pulled up to the quaint little cabin with its wooden carvings of bears on the doorstep and cozy quilts topping every couch inside, Ashe had lit up like the sun itself and Sylvain had felt all his reservations melt. Ashe loved the kitchen with its “have a beary good day!” oven mitts. He loved the bed with its wooden headboard and patchwork comforter. He loved the old family photo book the owners of the cabin left on a shelf to gather dust. 

And that made Sylvain want to love it too. 

As midnight approached, Ashe carried a glass sizzling with champagne to where Sylvain lounged on a couch crowded with “home sweet home” pillows. Sylvain swung his long legs aside so Ashe could settle beside him on the couch. 

Ashe clinked his glass against Sylvain's. “Happy New Year,” he said.

“It's not midnight yet,” Sylvain said.

Ashe shrugged a shoulder. “It's pretty close.”

“There haven't even been fireworks yet.” 

“I don't think there will be any fireworks out here,” Ashe said. 

“Oh.” Sylvain hadn't thought of that. It had been one thing to realize there was no cable, and therefore no Times Square countdown to play on the television, but it was another to realize there wouldn't even be fireworks. The champagne hissed, the loudest sound for miles around. 

“Hey,” Ashe said. He leaned forward, giving Sylvain a soft kiss. He lingered close after their mouths parted and Sylvain felt dizzy with the scent of mint. “I know this isn't really your idea of New Year's Eve. Thank you for coming along with me anyway.” 

Sylvain's lips curled into a smile. “Yeah... no problem.” 

“It's kind of a problem,” Ashe said. “I know you'd rather be somewhere else, if you had the choice. I appreciate you trying this. For me.” 

“For you,” Sylvain said. And he leaned in for another kiss, this one lingering a bit longer. He kept their mouths close as he eased Ashe's champagne from his hand, setting both glasses aside. With his hands free, he laid back, pulling Ashe atop him, running his hands down Ashe's sides.

Ashe smiled down at him when they paused for breath, perched over him on the couch. Sylvain's heart tried to tear itself apart looking up at that sweet, lovely face gazing at him with raw affection. He reached up to tuck Ashe's hair behind his ear. “For you,” he said again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	29. Sylvain/Ashe/Felix, tipsy kiss on New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix are bickering about who to kiss on New Year's Eve and Ashe gets drawn into the conflict.

“Come on, Felix,” Sylvain said, “you have to kiss _someone._ It's midnight.”

“I don't _have_ to do anything,” Felix said, crossing his arms. 

Sylvain chucked back the rest of his drink, despite the rosiness already freckling his cheeks. “I'm trying to help you out here,” he said. “Just kiss me and get it over with.”

“No,” Felix said. 

“Am I really that disgusting to you?”

“You don't want me to answer that.”

“Ouch,” Sylvain said. “Fine, then who would you kiss instead?”

“No one,” Felix said.

“Pick someone.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Anyone. Anyone at all.”

“I'm not picking.”

“Just pick--”

“Ashe.” 

Ashe looked up from where he sat on the couch at the sharp bark of his name. He'd been studying a drink in a Solo cup, wondering if he should finish it while the room spun or just dump the potent concoction. Now, he wondered if he should flee or attempt to sink into the couch cushions and disappear. Felix and Sylvain both glared at him, seeming to tower over him. 

“Ashe, huh?” Sylvain said.

“What?” Ashe said. 

“C'mere,” Sylvain said. 

Ashe's eyes went wide. He shook his head. 

“Come on, please,” Sylvain said. “Just come over here a second. We need you to settle a debate.”

Ashe rose cautiously, clutching his cup as he approached the angry duo. 

“Felix won't kiss me for New Year's, but he'll kiss you, apparently,” Sylvain said.

“That's not—” Felix started, but he cut himself off, an angry flush lighting his face. “You forced me to choose.”

“Well, any way you look at it, we're at an impasse here, gentlemen,” Sylvain said. “I want to kiss him, he wants to kiss you and you, Ashe, what do you want?” 

_To fucking die on the spot,_ Ashe thought, but when he tried to speak all that came out was a tepid, “Uh...” 

Sylvain stepped close, slipping an arm around Ashe's waist. “Why don't we just solve this already, yeah?”

Ashe thought he may have nodded, but he couldn't be sure because the next moment Sylvain swept down to kiss him, pulling him close as he did. Ashe's cup crinkled between them. He held fast to it while Sylvain flicked his tongue into Ashe's mouth and just as quickly stepped away, leaving Ashe tottering. 

“Alright, Felix, you wanted him,” Sylvain said. “Go for it.”

“I didn't--” Felix choked on his own words again. He balled his hands into fists. “Fine. Ashe, come here.” 

Ashe took a step forward—somehow—and Felix snatched the front his shirt, yanking him into a rough, decisive kiss. For all its abruptness, Ashe found Felix's mouth surprisingly gentle. He didn't prod with his tongue as Sylvain had, yet his mouth was firm and strong and warm. 

Felix released him, stepping away. 

“There,” he said. “Done.” 

“No way,” Sylvain said. “That's not fair at all.” 

And this time it was Sylvain grabbing at shirts, guiding Felix to him even as Felix put his hands on Sylvain's shoulders to keep him at bay. Still, Felix let him in close and Ashe found himself standing there open-mouthed and flushed as his friends kissed. There was something beautiful in the way they fought for dominance even during an act as inconsequential as a kiss. Ashe almost felt like he was watching a fist fight. 

They burst apart with a hiss of breath. 

Felix sneered. “What a stupid waste of time. Are you happy now?” He didn't wait for an answer before he turned on his heel and stormed off. 

Sylvain was smiling. He winked over at Ashe. “For the record,” he said, “yes, I am extremely happy now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	30. Marianne/Hilda, kissing as a new year's wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne feels overwhelmed by the party but Hilda knows just how to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE FINALLY ASKED ME FOR THIS SHIP THANK GOD. Everyone, go appreciate the fuck out of MariHilda because it is the GOOD. SHIT.

The noise of the party pushed Marianne deeper into the cushions of the couch. She shrank, curling tighter against the corner created by the arm and back of the seat. 

Marianne let out a long breath. All her friends probably thought she was strange, trying to hide in the middle of the party. She knew all these people. She _liked_ all these people. It was just overwhelming between the noise and everyone drinking and the amount of people filling Claude's little apartment all at once and Marianne was no fun in this kind of situation so when someone tried to talk to her what could she even say oh goddess she hoped no one tried to talk to her what would she--

Someone plopped down on the couch right beside her. 

“Enjoying the party?” Hilda said. 

Marianne nodded, holding her drink close to her face like a blanket to hide under. She took a sip, hoping the burn of the alcohol might soothe her nerves, but it only made her stomach flutter and flip. 

“Good!” Hilda said. She knocked back her drink and set the cup aside. “What's your new year's wish?” 

“My... wish?” Marianne said. “I... I don't have a wish.”

“Aw, come on, Mari,” Hilda said. “You gotta make a wish. It's almost midnight.”

Marianne frowned. She had no idea what to wish for. Wishing to leave the party felt too petty and mean, but if she could have had anything in that moment, it might have just been a breath of quiet.

“I know,” Hilda said. She jumped back to her feet and offered her hand. “Come on.” 

“Where...” Marianne said, but Hilda's hand was in her face, insistent. She took it. The instant her hand touched Hilda's, Hilda yanked her to her feet and started dragging her through the party. Claude offered some quip. Lorenz looked affronted as Hilda shoved past him. Leonie and Raphael didn't bother pausing their arm wrestling match to notice, but Ignatz, sitting on the floor, made a little squeak of surprise when Hilda stepped over him.

Hilda pulled Marianne into a hallway then swerved into the bedroom, where everyone's coats and bags lay stacked up on the bed. 

Marianne sighed in the quiet. Hilda shut the door, muffling the raucous party. The still darkness was lit only by the dregs of the porch light outside, a faint glow that just barely trickled into the room. 

Hilda stood before Marianne. “Better?”

Marianne nodded. “Better,” she said. 

“I thought it might be,” Hilda said. Marianne had never heard her voice so soft and gentle. Usually Hilda was the center of the action, loud, bright and dazzling. Yet here she was, standing quietly with Marianne, silently smiling at her through the dark. 

“So,” Hilda said, “do you have a wish now?” 

People started chanting in the living room. Counting down. 

“I... I think this was my wish,” Marianne said. 

“Can I tell you mine?” Hilda said.

Marianne nodded. The chanting got louder, then the room erupted in a cheer. Hilda stepped close, very close, too close, except that Marianne could not make herself run. The scent of Hilda's flowery perfume made Marianne dizzy as Hilda got so close she could put her hands on Marianne's shoulders and rise up to kiss her.

Marianne blinked before her eyes fluttered shut. She tasted cherry lip balm, sweet alcohol and some deeper, stronger flavor that was essentially Hilda, sturdy and bold and warm like summer sunlight. Hilda pressed firmly, yet Marianne felt coaxed rather than trapped, guided into the embrace like when she eased one of her horses to stretch its legs and run. 

And Marianne was not just running; she was flying. Light, weightless, untethered as Hilda's soft lips massaged hers. When Hilda stepped away, Marianne felt like she thudded back to the ground. 

“Thank you,” Hilda said.

Marianne struggled to find breath. “For... for what?”

Hilda smiled. “You were my new year's wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
